Behind Dark Eyes
by FalconerPredator360
Summary: When a young girl, who has befriended the young Michael Myers, gets a scarred life, and a hideous face, and realizing that her best friend had disappeared for years the day after Halloween, is in pursuit to find him. The masked man. Man of many massacres. The man that was her friend. And, he didn't expect for her to try and kill him, either.
1. School Days

Behind Those Dark Eyes.

Chapter One: School Day

"C'mon Kalli, you're gonna be late!" My mother yells up from downstairs. "Yes ma'am!" I reply, and grab my backpack, running downstairs. My mother smiles at me the way she always does, and runs her fingers through my short black hair. She chuckles, "Alright, now make sure you keep a cute little smile on your face!" She says, squeezing my cheeks. I laugh slightly, trying to make her feel happy, but I don't really want to smile. I am 13, and I don't need to be treated like a little baby. But, my mother feels the need to treat me like one. I roll my eyes, and head out to the busstop, which just so happens to be right outside our house. I get out there just in time. I let the other kids get on first, and then I get on last. Its what I always do. Everyone on the bus is seated, and as soon as my face was visible to everyone, the kids in the back laughed. I walked back there, there being no where else to sit. I scan the seats, and the bus driver yells for me to sit down. All the kids in the back have put their backpacks on the other half of the seat so I won't sit there. I looked to my left, and saw a boy my age, with shaggy blonde hair, a pair of piercing baby blue eyes, and clutching his backpack in his arms.

"May I sit here?" I say, my voice hardly even a whisper. The boy looks up, and nods. I take a seat down next to him, and the kids and the back begin to chant; "The freak sat next to the mute newbie boy! The freak sat next to the mute newbie boy!" Idecide to ignore them, but I spot a couple crystal like tears trickling down the boy's red cheeks. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he tears his attention away from outside the window, and looks at me, wiping his tears away. "Don't listen to them. Okay? They're just idiots- they are always like this. And, are you new?" I say and ask, and he just plainly nods, and I nod also. "Welcome. What's your locker number?" I ask. He pulls out a small notebook, and writes down the four digit number. 5764. I look of surprise came across my face. My locker number is 5765. "Looks like we'll be seeing eachother often, because my locker is right next to yours," I say, and he nods again. I knew he was mute ever since I sat next to him, thanks to the kids I the back. I feel something hit my arm and land in my lap. It is a piece of paper, I open it, it saying: 'Hey freak, wh,erent you born on a highway? Because that's were accidents happen'. I try not to let myself tear up, and the boy next to me was looking over my shoulder, reading what they wrote. I crumble it back up, closing my eyes for a moment.

I open my eyes, and I am met with the boy's notebook. He wrote; 'My name is Michael. What's your name?' I chuckle quietly, once again, biting back tears, and reply, "My name is Kalli, its good to meet you Michael." I say, just before the bus driver parks and opens the bus doors. I get up out of my seat, and head out quickly. Michael follows closely behind me, and as soon as he caught up, just walked next to me silently, his head hung low. I glance at him momentarily, his eyes once again teary, and tired looking, with heavy bags rung beneath his blue eyes. I turn my gaze forward, walking into the school. Since it is the start of the school year for Michael, (which I had assumed, due to the fact I had no clue his locker was right next to mine, and normally that locker had belonged to no one) I decided I was going tok help him out a bit. See what his schedule for his classes are. See what I can do to help. Because that's my goal in life. Is to help people. To make them smile.

I am caught off guard by the sudden bang of Michael getting shoved into a row of lockers by one of the school jocks. He begins to tease and mock Michael, and I feel the need to be there for him, but my courage isn't strong. Against my own orders, I decide to stand in front of the jock. "Hey, punk. Back off and pick on someone your own size." I say, trying not to show the slightest bit of disencouragement in my voice. Michael is sitting on the floor, trying to get the backpack, which was still on him, but the storage compartment area was on his head, off of him. I help him up, carefully taking the backpack off his head. "You okay, Michael?" I ask, and he looks up at me with his eyes, eyes filled with sadness and pain...overwhelming emotions. I lead him down the hall, over to our lockers. I looked up at the hall clock, we still have 20 minutes until class starts. I turn the combination lock, and unlock it, taking off the lock, and hooking it onto my pocket. I open it, take a few things out of my backpack, and put one of my sketches in there, and I spot Michael looking at the sketch curiously. I quickly shut my locker, and look at him. "Who's homeroom do you have?" I quickly ask, and he points to his schedule, turning around his books so I can see. Same homeroom teacher. I glance down his schedule and- we both have all the same classes except for Social Studies U. S. History. Michael looks at me, and a smile creeps up on the edges of his lips. I try to give him a smile, but I can't. Smiling isn't a natural thing for me. But he smiles at me anyways.

-

At lunchtime, I spot Michael sitting all alone at a lunchtable. Feeling bad, I walk over to go sit next to him. His eyes seem to light up when I do. "So, how is your day so far?" I ask, and Michael already has his notepad out, writing away. I read what he wrote, and it says; "It is going well, thank you." I nod, and he smiles slightly. We eat in silence. I get up to throw my trash away, and Michael follows, and I take into notice that he only ate a quarter of what he got. I guess he wasn't hungry.

-

Over the past few weeks, we have gotten to get to really know eachother. He seems a lot more brighter, and he's always been there for me when I needed someone most, and as have I. But something wasn't right today. Something was wrong. It was All Hallow's Eve, and Michael was really upset. He told me that Halloween was something he cherished and adored, and it always makes him happy. We sat next to eachother at lunch, and he was crying. And nothing I would say would help. I gave him a small pat on the back, but it only made him cry more. I sigh, not knowing what else to do, and being the best friends that we are, I give him a hug to reassure him that everything is going to be okay. And that's when he told wanted to kill both his father and his sister. And I became extremely scared and worried. "Michael, don't say that please!" I beg him. He just trembles and more tears streak down his face. "Michael, what made you think this?" I ask him, but get no response. Nothing, but a now blank, emotionless stare.

-

Its now the day after Halloween, and Michael hasn't shown up for school. Maybe he is sick. Not feeling well. So, I am once again, a loner for a day.  
But not just a day, several days.  
Weeks.  
Years.  
I have been alone.  
I never saw Michael again.  
And my parents were cruel to me one night.  
They cut me,  
Hurt me,  
Scarred me.  
And now,  
I am back.  
For my revenge,  
And in search,  
For my once best friend,  
And the murderer of Haddonfield, the place I once called home.

**A/N: New story.**


	2. Dilemma On Christmas

**A/N: Gruesome chapter. Beware.**

Behind Those Dark Eyes Part Two: Dilemma on Christmas

I get home from school one day, and my dad finally emerges from his workplace in the basement. It feels like I haven't seen him in years. He never shares with me what he's created, until tonight, two years later from the disappearance of my best friend, on Christmas Eve, he said he'd show me. After mother went to bed though, which worries me. I don't know why it does, its just I'm a little nervous, because I never really knew my father all that well. I never get to see him, once again, due to his job. That he apparently doesn't get paid for. My mom does the work. My dad does the fun, and I get the isolation.

My dad is upstairs to get a sandwich real quick, and go right back downstairs, so he told me, with the unfamiliar voice. My favourite time of year, is tomorrow. I love Christmas. And I decide, I'm going to stay upstairs, because nobody wants me around! That's an excellent idea, Kalli! I tell myself with sarcasm. I quickly go upstairs, making no eye contact with my father, for his bright green eyes scared me due to unfamiliarity of him. Its been 10 years. I only saw him for at least 20 minutes a week. Is that good enough? No.

I open my bedroom door, the welcoming smell of paints and the vibrant drawing covered walls. I sigh, dropping my heavy backpack down on the floor with a soft bang, and I flop down on my bed, staring at the cieling. I decide after a few minutes to pull out a yearbook from a few years ago...back in the 7th grade. I flip it open to the pictures of all of the 7th graders...and I spot Michael first because his last namr is Myers. I study the picture for a while, my eyes tearing up because of the sudden loss of a friend...but then I quickly turn the page, to prevent me from shedding a tear. I catch the picture of me, the grey backround and my pitch black hair, and my pale white face- I guess everyone's looks the same in black and white.

I close the yearbook, it making a clapping sound, and I look out my open window. I sigh sadly, seeing the Myers' house...abndoned. Maybe they moved! Maybe that's why! But, he would've told me, right? Pfft...

The doorbell rings, and its up to me to get it. I quickly run downstairs, and peek out the window to see who it is first before I open the door. Its one of the police officers from the police department. I open the door, and my face remains blank. As the officer smiles, it reminds me of the fact that I can't. Its almost like a expression that could never happen to me. Smiling. Happiness. No. I shake my head, as the officer waits there patiently, looking at me. "I'm sorry sir! Here, come in!" I say, moving out of the way so he can come in. He nods, and smiles again. "Hello there ma'am. Are your parents home?" He asks, straightening his lether jacket over his uniform. I shake my head. "My father is here- but he is busy at the moment. May I take a message?" I ask, crossing my arms behind my back. "Well, I am here, stopping by everyone's houses, sending out a warning to stay inside your house this Christmas. We've had a strange series of murders...it is quite odd. We are still nvestigating it, and here, I am handing out the papers to everyone too. Have a nice day ma'am. You can call the police department if you need anything and you can ask to speak with Officer Chris," he says, pointing to himself, and I nod. He gives me a wink, and I clutch the paper in my hand, and as soon as he leaves I shut the door. Murders, huh? Around Haddonfield? No way.

I take a look at the paper, and it says there was an escapee from Smith's Grove Sanitarium just down the road...his name was...no. No! It couldn't be! Tears well up in my eyes, and for once one escapes, much like my best friend. Escape through murder, and got there by murder. I drop the paper like it has some kind of disease, and run upstairs to my room. Its already getting dark, and I don't care what time it is. What a way to ruin your Chritmas Eve. I slam shut my door, shut my window,.and shut the curtains, turn off my lights, and throw myself into my bed, pulling the covers over my head. Might as well get some rest before seeing my dad's creation right before Christmas at 11:30.

-

My father had woken me up early to show me his invention, and I agreed to it. I pull the sheets off of me, and head down into the basement. I wrap my arms tightly around myself to keep myself warm, and I walk down the hallway to the stairs. I open the door, and it creates a loud creak, along with the flash of light in my eyes from the light bulb above the stairs. I start to walk down the stairs, with each footstep, a shiver sent up my spine. I don't even know how my father works down here. The air, thick with sawdust, water droplets dripping from the pipes above with short clinks, and the dim lighting. We need more lights like the ones at the top of the stairs.

I reach the bottom of the steps, and the lights in his workplace aren't even on. He said he was down here. I decide to look around, and I walk past one of his work tables. I saw strange tools, with sharp edges. I run my fingers against the rough tabletop, saw dust dragging along with my frail fingers. I look out into the darkness.

A strange light flashes in my eyes, and I see a girl, who bears a slight resemblance to me, with parts of her cheek torn open, and one of her eyes colourless with a long scar through it, and her throat is looked as if she had been strangled. Her hair is short and tangled and bloody, and her shirt has scratch marks through it. Her arms, bloody with large gashes running along her forearms, her hands, shaking, and in her right hand, she has within her iron grip, blood-covered thin bladed pliers. A hear a creak from behind me, and I turn on instinct to see who it was.

My dad stands at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at me, dark circles rung beneath his eyes. I turn back to where I saw the girl. She wasn't there. In fact, the lights in there are on. How did the lights get on? The light switch for them aren't even relatively closer to my father, or me. I turn back to my dad, who has now walked over to the light switch to his workplace, and looked at me strangely.  
"Sweetie, you okay?"  
I shake my head, and reply, "Yes. I'm sorry...just a little tired."  
My father nods, and signals me to come over to his long wooden table that he had built.

"What did you need me for daddy? What did you want to show me?" I ask, peering over his shoulder.  
He turned around and stabbed something into my arm. Unbearable pains rush throughout me, as he cuts down further to my frail hands. He pins me up against the wall, and does the same to my other arm. I'm in too much pain and surprise to cry. My father's eyes went from soft, to pure ruthless.

"My beautiful daughter...smile,"

My father says, taking whatever he was using to cut me with to jab me in my left cheek. He tears it open, my blood spilling everywhere. Pain is all I can think about. For once, tears streak down from my eyes, and fall into my slit open cheeks, which causes it to burn uncontrollably. Laughter from the left of us escapes someone's lips. My father turns my head in the direction of the feminine laugh. My mother stands there, by the stairs. Laughing at me, and my defenselessness. My father laughs evilly along with my mother. Such cruelty. Where had this come from? They were so nice, my mother always baking those sweet, delectable homemade chocolate chip cookies, and offering them to our neighbors. My father, a high paid engineer and inventor, teacher of mine, and the structure hold of our family.

Now, they are laughing at me. They are hurting me. Abusing me. More tears pour from my eyes, and my dad takes his weapon, which looks like really sharp edged thin pliers, and jags it across my eye.

"There, there, don't cry..." He looks at me with sadistic eyes. I scream, and after that, wail in pain. Oh, the pain. He places the pliers down on the table next us, and wraps his hard and rough hands around my neck. He grips it with an iron grip, taking all the air from me. I flail my wounded arms, as both my parents laugh hysterically at me. My hands land on pliers on the table, and my eyes land on the clock.  
The time says that it's Christmas. 12:00. I grip the pliers with shaking hands, and my head begins to throb with pain, and my lungs long for air. I raise the pliers above me, and my father's eyes widen as I bring them down on his head. He releases me, and gagging, I stab him repeatedly in the head, until his whole body goes completely limp, and his face torn up and bloody. I turn to my mother, and grin.

"My turn mommy," I say, and walk towards her, my eyes wide, and longing for vengeance. I have the pliers raised, and I bring them down on her chest, several times, and she mutters her last words.

"You were never the right child for us. You...you were...you were a..." She gets cut off by my final stab. She lies there, on the ground, covered in dark crimson, and the light swing. I turn to look at my father's workplace, and the lights are off again. I grip my pliers tightly. For a moment, I see myself, in my pj's, hair ruffled, and arms crossed tightly. I grin evilly.

"Merry Christmas...my parents."


	3. Mr Sandman

**A/N: Introducing some new character's persona's...**

Behind Those Dark Eyes Part Three: Mr. Sandman

The radio plays aloud in the police department. Last night was a long night for me. I don't understand- we were friends. I sit here at my desk, papers piled in front of me. I'm so tired after three weeks of searching. Searching for a friend of mine, she was a good friend during the school days. Kalli. Kalli Quander. I made sure that girl was safe, and knew about everything before the whole town knew. She was a cheerful person, although she never smiled. And yet, with almost no emotion, she still managed to make ME smile whenever I see her. I look outside the window in my office, and he seems to be a winter womderland out there, pure white. Small crystal like flurries fall from the sky and pile up on the ground. Looks like the kids may not have school tomorrow, and yet we're thinking of putting the whole town on lockdown because of two serial killers. Just thinking about poor Kalli makes me feel sik to my stomach- what she's become. There's a knock at my door, and I get up to go answer it. I open the door, and there stands a young man, a large smile on his face, and his cheery brown eyes.

It must be the new recruit..."Hello, here come in." I say, letting him in, and I shut the door behind him. I signal for him to have a seat over in one of the chairs in front of my desk. I take a seat at my desk, and pull out the form he had signed. "How old did you say you were again?" I ask, looking at him. "Sir, I'm 16. I'm in need of a job. My family needs the money- we had lost our house. I don't live in Haddonfield, but this is the only police d department that would have accepted me, sir. I'm in high school, 11th grade. I'm going to strive to get a good scholarship to the college of Haddonfield. I'm doing this on the behalf of my family sir." He says, his expression more stern, and yet his eyes show excitement. "Alright, so you say you can be serious at times, and you- " I get cut off by the alarms blaring, and and my walki-talki telling me that we found Michael. Michael Myers. I shoot up from my chair, quickly putting on my supply belt, and reaching into one of my drawers, and toss the uniform to him, and give him a supply belt. "Meet me out there, here's the coordinates." I say, holding out a map. He takes it, and happily nods.

I grin at him, never seeing a kid so eager to help out. "You ever been trained on the field, kid?" I ask. "Well-" he starts, but I quickly say with a smirk, "Well, today will be your training. So get your butt out there." I pat him on the shoulder, and quickly run out, and into my car, turning on the sirens and hitting the accelerator. I sure hope that kid has a driver's liscense, because he missed his ride. Not like he would of made it in time to catch it. I see him running after the car, and I burst out laughing. There were no police cars left, and I had just left him there. Boy, have I gotten meaner. I stop the car, and wait for him to run up the the door, and I unlock it. Just as he pulls on the handle, I lock it again. He shivers outside in the snow, and I unlock it, him slightly hesitant to open the door. He puts his jittery hand on the handle, and I lock it again. He smiles, understanding I was just toying with him. He grins, I unlock it,.and he opens it and takes a seat, shutting the door tight. He buckles up, and I hit the accelerator again, causing him to grip the arm rest. "Uhm, sir, may I request that you slow down a tiny bit?" He asks me, his face flush. "Sure thing," I say, speeding up, but then jolt to a stop, and he lunges forward, and just laughs. "G-good one sir!" He smiles. Man, this kid doesn't take these things so personal like any of my other recruits. Just can't wait to see him in the field.

I pull up to the scene, which seems to be a large forested area, and I quickly get out of the car, seeing others' cars parked all over the place, like a big crowd. I run out into the forest, where I see Officer Ford and Sherriff Brackett with guns in hand, looking into the dark forest. The recruit runs up behind me, and I stop when I am close enough to the two. "Chris! I thought you wouldn't show up!" Officer Ford shouts. The recruit catches up with me, a big grin on his face. "Hey, kiddo, what's in there will sure as heck wipe the smile right off your face," Sherriff Brackett says. I sigh, and the kid's eyes only got brighter, and his smile wider. "Sir, smiling is a great thing, it shows off your personality, and how welcoming you are," he says. "Well, this guy ain't human. And he doesn't smile. He won't hesitate to kill you. So keep your gun ready," Sherriff Brackett says. And heads into the forest. "At least we ain't livin' in Woodsboro." Ford says, with a chuckle. "Prank calling teens, and becoming a freaky ghost faced serial killer, that is apparently several people? Ha!" Ford remarks, and I shake my head. The recruit's smile has remained intact. I shake my head again, my gun within my iron grip. A small twig snaps behind us, and everyone turns around.

Nothing. I sigh, and then turn around. I am met with the pale white mask of that infamous man...I raise my gun, but he quickly smacks me out of the way, no problem. I hit the ground hard, and spot Ford firing his weapong at him. "Where are the others?" Sherriff Brackett yells. "Kid! Look out!" I quickly yell. Myers is right behind him. The kid turns around slowly, and fires his gun at point blank right into Myers' stomach. My heart leaps, as the kid hits him in the head with the butt of his gun. "You go kid!" I cheer him on, but Michael quickly brings his knife directly down into the kid's chest, blood spraying everywhere. Rage fills me. I get up, and charge at Myers. I punch him in the face several times, and pick up a fallen branch, and hit him hard with it. I stop when he goes to stagger away, and I hear the coughing of the recruit. I drop the now bloody branch, and kneel down next to the recruit.

The recruit is as bloody as all get out, and yet he is still smiling! "Sir..." he starts, and I call for the paramedics.

-

Everything seems to slow down for me, although I had tried to save Officer Chris, but I guess I did good enough, because he is alive and well. I feel a strange substance pouring out from my mouth, as I begin to tremble, my breath unsteady. My life flashes before my eyes, and I think of my family. My mother and my father, my baby sister, and my older brother. I smile, which is what I do best, and I want Officer Chris to tell my family about me. Not to make me the most memorable because I literally am dying on my first on field training, and I don't want myself to be in the news. "Officer Chris...may I request something?" I ask, and a smile creeps up on his face. "Yes kid?" He asks, his eyes accepting the fact that I had saved him. "My name is Gabriel, and I request that you tell my family that I love them." I say, and he shakes his head. "No! You aren't going to die on me!" He yells, and I just smile, and let darkness overcome me.

-

The kid- Gabriel- is dead. On his first on field mission thanks to Michael Myers. I am going to slaughter him. Make sure he dies.  
One of the policemen exiting their cars had their radio bursting loud, and the song 'Mr Sandman' rings throughout the death filled air.

I stand, watching this happen. My fake and carved smile no longer burning. I had forgotten to bundle up, so now I am in my rolled up sleeved leather jacket. Gripping my bloody pliers in my hand, with white knuckle rage. I spot Chris, my best friend in school when Michael left, and I just stare. I haven't seen him since he had given me that warning about Michael. Officer Chris  
was a strange and hard person to read, much like me. A shy character, yet will crack jokes in his spare time. I remember him always being protective of me, making sure I stayed out of trouble- but that was after I had lost Michael. But now I got a short glimpse of him.  
Of the nightmare.  
Of the terror.  
Of what he's become.  
And of what I've become.


	4. Smith's Grove

**A/N: Not much to say on this one. But Dr. Loomis appears.**

Behind Those Dark Eyes

Smith's Grove

I start to head back when I feel a sharp, needling pain in my lower back. I decide to walk it off, and the pain was increasing as another small needle-like pain hit me in my upper back. My eyes suddenly start to droop, and my hands begin to grasp my pliers loosely. I begin to get incredibly tired, and I stagger instead of walking.

I finally decide to give into this, what seems like, a deep sleep when it hits me that I've already fallen. I feel tight arms around me, and they pick me up. I struggle to see, looking up at the person carrying me. It's Officer Chris. When I come to that realization, I'm already passed out.

"Officer Chris, sir! Brackett's orders you bring her to Smith's Grove," a young officer walks up to me. I nod, carrying Kalli's frail body to the car. The driver unlocks the door, and I open it, getting in without hurting either Kalli or me. Poor girl is hurt enough. I hear a quick click of the car doors locking and I gently lay Kalli's head down on my lap. "Officer, did you know Dr. Loomis may retire after seeing to Kalli?" The driver asks, looking in the mirror. "No sir, I did not. Not at all." I reply, and he nods, a sudden downpour of rain making it more difficult for the driver to see. "Did you hear that-" the driver was cut off by my walkie-talkie blaring out at me. I listen to the voices, and it's Sheriff Brackett broadcasting to everyone.

"We've finally got Myers. And we're bringing him back to Smith's Grove Sanitarium."

I grin, a sigh of relief escaping my mouth. Hallelujah, we finally got him. I look back down at Kalli, her emotionless, pale white face, and her carved smile. I tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear, remembering high school.

Boy, was I a goober then! I remember asking her out, driven by her beautiful complexions, and her short, and layered black hair, that when at prom, had looked like the night sky. I rest my head on the back of the seat, smiling, remembering those times.

It was prom night, and I had asked Kalli to the dance. She had at first was confused and didn't know, but then later accepted. I remember when she would look at me in a way that nobody could comprehend- I thought she was very pretty. No doubt about it. But before high school, it had been absolutely devastating for her. She'd lost a friend, she had no clue where he went.

And yet, she had kept waiting. Always sat at the table alone. Never talked to anyone. She would wait at her locker for ten minutes every morning hoping he would come. But no, he never did. It was then I realised that I needed to step out from the popularity group and be with her. And apparently, I didn't do a good job. And neither did her parents.

"Officer Chris, sir," the driver says, pulling up to the front entrance of Smith's Grove. I sigh, and hold Kalli close, and quickly run inside the sanitarium without getting her wet. Dr. Loomis was already there, waiting, next to Sheriff Brackett and Officer Ford. I look down, and medics run in, carefully taking her away from me, and quickly run off. It felt like a part of me died inside without Kalli. I wanted to hold her tight and tell et everything is going to be okay, but I know that isn't true and would never happen.

Dr. Loomis approaches me, staggering on his cane, as he looks up with an old and weary face. "Christopher, Kalli will be alright- but I know for sure Michael won't. He is just evil. Purely and simply evil."

I nod, and walk up to the Sheriff. "Brackett, may I go see Kalli?" I ask concerned. Brackett gives me a look. "Kid, you were just with her not two seconds ago! You'll have to wait a few days." He says shaking his head. A few days? That long? No way.

I open my eyes, which feel heavier than normal. But...I cannot see. I try to focus my eyesight, but all I see is a blur. I try to open my slit mouth more, but I cannot. I reach up to go rub my eyes, feeling a strange cloth covering them. In fact, the strange cloth is covering my whole face. My breathing is perfectly fine, thank The Lord, an I sit up from whatever I was on. I try to get up, but I feel like I cannot get anywhere. This isn't fair! There's...where am I?

I reach around, and hear muffled laughs from all directions. I decide to scream, maybe it will be the only way to get the doctors attention. I feel a strange, yet odd and painful sting on both sides of my jawbone. As soon as I go to reach up to feel it, I feel something year through my skull and straight through my brain, and needle like things protrude from my jaw. Behind my eyes I feel a really bad pain, and suddenly my eyes pop out of their sockets, leaving them empty. Screaming with pain, I call out for help.

8-8

I wake up screaming. Just a dream. I wipe the sweat that was building up on my forehead, and sit up, in what seems to be like jail. I look to my right and left, seeing the man on the left with tattoos running along his arms and neck. To my right is...Michael. His face was wrapped completely like mine was in my dream, and he sits there, staring straight forward. I watch his eerie character momentarily, remembering he used to be the sweetest boy. All he ever wanted was love.

What was once a sweetheart of a boy, is now a murdering psychopathic killer, and I am going to kill him.


	5. Define Dancing

**A/N: Nothing...to...say...**

Behind Those Dark Eyes Prt. 5

Define Dancing

I open my eyes, my vision clearing in a few seconds like normal. Even though I'm sleep deprived, I'm doing okay night time wise. But overall, I feel terrible. This isn't normal for me- but- I take a look to my left. I have been getting overly irritated about this guy asking for cigars constantly. Maybe that's why he's here. Maybe to get clean because he always talking about drugs and shivering at night. It kinda hard to believe an intimidating man with tattoos running up his arms an neck that he would be cowering from doctors when they come in to tell him to go to sleep. He is very masculine, and I'm sure he won't let anyone get past him if they insult him. He ain't no pushover. You can tell by his appearance and his deep southern accent. He don't play.

As for the terd on my right, he used to be my best friend, and then murdered his sister, leaving me forever. It's almost like this jerk didn't like me. But, being here four about four days or more, all I seemed to notice was his wrapped face continuously gazing blankly at the wall in front of him. Idiot. I reach up to my face, touching my slit open mouth gently, closing my eyes. My thoughts and meditation was disturbed by Mr. Tattoos on my left by him banging his fists on the cell bars, begging for a cigar. Again. It's really irritating. I glance back at Michael, an cough slightly, seeing if he'd notice me here. Or maybe just break his gaze for a little bit.

I sigh loudly, and he doesn't seem to be fazed at all. I get up an start pacing, wanting to gain his attention. I bash my fists suddenly on the bars and he didn't even flinch. But everyone else did. Still staring at the wall. I bang my hands on the cell bars again. Nothing. The boogeyman is never fazed by anything apparently. But then, an idea sparks.

"Hey, Boogerman."

I say, unable to smirk, but in my head I did. Michael's head seemed to tilt just barely, but you would have needed 20/20 sharp eyesight to see it. Like me. He re-fixated his gaze on the wall in front of him. I sigh. "Hey Mr. Sandboxman what's wrong? Can't sleep?" I remark, and try to fire with derogatory comments and remarks. "Alright zombie face, if you aren't gonna-" I start, but in a matter of seconds, half of Michael's arm is through the bars and his hand forcing an iron grip around my neck.

My eyes widen as I see my father with both hands around my small neck. His eyes filled with pure hatred, and I'm back in my basement again. Unable to breathe, I start to hit him in the head. But suddenly, I'm looking at Michael's wrapped face, and I cannot see any of his face. I scream, but it getting cut off by a sudden grip tightening of Michael. "Michael please...I-I'm sorry..." I say softly, and he lets me go. Not because I apologised. But because of the tapping of the doctors shoes walking down the hallway. I back away from him, gasping for air, and rub my neck slightly. Michael's blank gaze returns to the wall. The doctors we heard have now stopped at Michael's cell, opened it and cuffed him, leading him away. Michael didn't even look back like most others would.

Once he has been gone for a few moments, I take into realisation that I have been standing for at least ten minutes, looking at the ground with no thoughts. That is weird. I hear more taps of people's shoes, and out of the corner of my eye, I spot Officer Chris. Really? Why does he keep coming back? It gets quite annoying sometimes*. He spots me, sighs happily, and run down the hall. I watch him with an odd look, and he returns after conversing with one of the guards. He holds up a key, with a grin, unlocks my cell door and walks in. "Hey Kal," he says with a soft smile. I...I wish I could smile like that. If I didn't have this...terrifying smile. "Well, you look awful happy today!" He says, cracking himself up. I never know how he manages to do that. In a matter of moments, he takes my hand in his, and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. This reminds me of the one thing I've always dreaded and never wanted to tell him...

"Hey Kalli...remember prom night?" He says, with a big smile. I don't reply. In fact, I keep a poker face. He just grins at me, such happiness in his eyes, when you take one glance, you would never be able to comprehend what went through his head that makes him so happy.

He begins to move around, making me dance with him. Even though I have no clue how. He inches his face over by me ear and whispers, "You were a great dancer during prom...what happened to your smooth moves girl?" He teases, but then whispers in my ear the ways I'm supposed to go. After a few minutes of just dancing, I've actually never felt this good before. He holds me out, and looks me in the eyes. "Don't let anyone ever tell you that you aren't beautiful. And please, Kalli, get better. They may even make your mouth better! They'll fix you up in no time!" He smiles, trying to reassure me, but sadly, is failing. I'll never get better. Doctors can't heal the pains that happen within my memory. Or my head. Surprised and cut off from my thoughts, I feel his lips brush up against my slit mouth, and he dashes off, quickly closing the door, and returning the keys. "Did I finish on time? Or did I go beyond the restriction?" Chris asks the guard with a grin. "Sir, you did fine. Just a tad bit overtime but that's alright." The guard replies.

I stare straight ahead, still surprised at what had happened. I shake my head a few times. Why didn't I escape? He left the door wide open! And, why couldn't I have...killed him? I had a perfect chance! I go to sit down on the bench that is also my bed, and watch the doctors throw Michael back into his cell. Michael weakly lands on his hands and knees, looking straight down at the ground- now wearing his infamous white mask. Why did they give that back to him? I push away the thought, and go over to the bars that divide my cell from his, and bend over so I could see him better. He is breathing heavily, each rugged breath could be heard through his pale white mask. He looks up at me, for once a definite emotion visible in his baby blue eyes. He was hurting. Hurting.

"Michael..." I whisper softly. Michael continue to stare at me, and I reach out, to touch his hand, but in a split second, he had grabbed my arm, and twisted it around and a scream escape my mouth. He kept twisting it further and further, no more pain visible in his eyes, just a no mercy stare. I scream even more each time he twists it more. It feels like he is going to tear it right out of its socket, when he suddenly lets go, getting up, and retreating back to his seat staring at the wall.

I whine in pain, and a guard runs to my cell door. "Kalli you alright?" He asks, and I nod. Oh, how that isn't true.

I sit down, and remember by just a few moments ago what Chris was doing.

Dancing.

"Define Dancing..." I mutter to myself.


	6. Valentine's Day Special

**A/N: Lovey-Dovey crap...**

Behind Those Dark Eyes Prt. 6

Valentine's Day Special

As I'm sitting on my bench, I listen to the radio in the guards officer. It's blaring loudly, and one of the guards call the others over.

"A miner by the name of Harry Warden created a Valentines Day Massacre in the town of Harmony,"

It blares.

I sit there, listening. But my listening is disturbed by the loud tapping of the patient on the other side of Michael. I stare down to look at him, and the patient on the right of that patient was staring at me, giving me a "This guy is crazy" look. I nod, and see the patient growling as he stands, moving to his cell door. "Must escape...must escape..." He mutters, and I glance quickly at Michael, who yet continues to stare at the wall. The patient shakes his head, tapping his foot on the ground, and he literally breaks through his cell door, breaking the lock, and his arm, and runs to the button that unlocks all cells, lifts the safeguard, and slams his fist on it, laughing like a maniac.

Doors open, and chaos breaks. Security guards run in with weapons, tazors, and tranquilliser darts. I stare at my open door, and look at Michael. He is still sitting there. His blue jumpsuit and emotionless mask staring straight forward without any anticipation of escaping. I stand up, and surprisingly, so does Michael. I walk forward, as does he. I exit the cell, not feeling free yet, and Michael exits also. I start towards the exit, but a sharp pain hits me in my lower back. I feel my eyelids droop, and the world begins to slow. I see Michael's blurry, yet looming figure in front of me, and I fall, blacking out.

I wake up with a start. Almost screaming. I stop myself, and look around. My head's throbbing begins to slow, as my vision clears, so I can observe my surroundings. I take a deep breath, trying to keep myself calm seeing that I am in a bed and Michael is staring at me from a distance. Apparently he brought me back to my own room. In my own house- why? What the heck is he going to do to me?! I sit up, nervously, and he watches my every move- with a different kind of gaze. A gaze that showed concern...

I get out of the bed, and try to regain my senses, and walk to my desk, where I used to doodle and look out at the Myers' house. Hoping that one day I'd see Michael again. I turn my head to look at Michael, who was now right behind me, and I jump. "Wow you're faster than I thought.." I chuckle. He stares down at me, an intimidating feeling rushing over me. "So Boogerman," I joke, but he didn't seem to catch it as a joke, so he pushed me to the ground with a simple shove. I get back up, chuckling. "Hey Mikey, remember you're first day at school?" I ask, and he just looks at me with- what was it- annoyance? Hm. I still remember that day...vividly in fact. "Your first bus ride to school?" I ask, and he continues to stare. Now, he just looks lost.

"Do you remember the note one of the kids in the back threw at me?" I say, walking up to him. He watches me. "The time you were alone at lunch," I say, taking his rough hand, "That time we found out our lockers were next to each others," I take his other hand in mine, "The time we both got in trouble for making up our own language in Science class," I say, trying to spin him around like ring around a rosie. "And, the time I kicked those bullies butts in the hallways?" I spin him in circles, and he stops me, looking highly annoyed. "And..." I start, but he glares. I sigh, giving him a real grin, and seeing if I could test his patience. "The time I hit you in the face at lunch with one of my cupcakes? You had blue frosting all over your face!" I laugh, and he rolls his eyes. "Michael, remember the time we went to that diner?" I remind him, and I catch a small glimmer in his eyes- and I actually smile. Even with these cuts. I smile. Because that was the glint I was looking for. A small sparkle in his eyes...even if it was for a few seconds. "And then, at school, that one day, the we both found small little pink an red papers in out lockers...on Valentine's Day..?" I wink, remembering today was Valentines Day. His eyes widen, and he turns around in annoyance. "I still have that by the way," I say, turning back to my desk, and opening the drawer, and pulling it out. Michael turns around, looking at the paper, and back at me. "I hid it so when the special investigators came to check this house, they wouldn't find it." I say, looking at him. He looks at me emotionlessly, and I stare at the features of his mask. I can't stand it. I hate that mask. I hate it! "Michael...?" I ask, and he stares at me with a look that expresses a 'What do you want' kind of look. I don't really want to ask him to take off his mask, because I don't know what he'd do. So, I decide to take a different route.

"Back then...did you really like me?" I ask, and he stares in annoyance. I sigh, knowing this question won't get an answer. I turn to the swivel chair at my desk, and crank it up, to the point my feet are barely touching the floor, and I use my desk to spin myself. I spin myself faster and fast until Michael and my room is just a blur. I giggle softly, thinking about what it would be like to hear Michael's voice...what would it sound like? I wonder...

I try to get off the chair while its spinning, but it just so happened to be the perfect storm. I crash right into Michael, and his arms catch me from beneath my arms, his eyes wide as plates. I look up at him, completely surprised, and I feel my face turn red. I stand up straight, and grin, standing on my tippy toes, so that my face barely lines up with his. I stumble slightly, but maintain my balance in this position. His eyes show ignorance and he seems completely annoyed with me. And I'm sick of him looking at me like that. I haven't talked to him for 20 years. 20. It's been that long. I run my hand through the hair on his mask, and go back down to be flat footed, and yank his head down, making him bend over, and he looks at me with a 'What the heck?!' look.

"Don't you dare give me those looks! You were and still are my best friend! And I am sorry for what happened in the sanitarium, and for being all mean to you! All I wanted was for you to pay attention to me...to notice me again...to accept me..." I say, trying not to tear up. Trembling, I let him go. He quickly stands up straight, and looks down at me. "And Michael, it's been a while since I've seen what you look like...may you, maybe, take off your mask..?" I ask, looking down, but I don't stay that way for long. I quickly glance up, to see his mask still on. He blankly stares down at me, seeming to not respond or not have listened to anything I've said. I finally let the tears fall. We were the greatest of friends when we were young. In fact- I felt we were more than friends. I was only mean because I wanted for him to see that I EXISTED again, to actually pay attention and care like he usually did. But no...he's changed so much. Tears fall into my open mouth, and I stutter, them falling out again, feeling disgusted and embarrassed with myself, I cover my face.

Suddenly, I feel a strong hand grip my shoulder gently. I look up, to see Michael, removing his hand from my shoulder, and reaching up to his mask. He slowly, very slowly, with trembling hands, removes the white mask. He drops it on the floor, and my heart flutters.

He was so handsome. His angular, yet scruffy jaw, his high cheekbones, and his baby blue eyes, his shaggy dark brown hair, he was just perfect. He lowers his head until our foreheads touch. We stay that way for a few moments, and he takes my hand in his, giving it a friendly squeeze.

Friendly.

Not a word I would've chosen earlier for Michael.

But, now he deserves it. He deserves a kind name for once.

I look him in the eyes, his angelic baby blues staring right back at me. I can see it. That small...small spark. I know he appreciates me. I smile. Smile. He inches his face closer to mine, and a heat creeps up my scarred cheeks. His eyes now show emotion, and look rather watery. He reaches up and touches my scarred cheek, and his lips lock with my torn ones. It's almost like he'd taken my breath away. Is this for real or am I still passed out? He breaks the short kiss, his eyes wide. I gulp, and touch my torn mouth. A quick small tear exits his right eye, across his lightly burnt and scraped up face. He traces my scars, trying to derive me from thinking he'd just shed a tear. A man with no emotion had just...

Shed a tear.

The emotionless had just shown love.

And the hurt, had just been healed.


	7. Back To Hatred

Behind Those Dark Eyes Prt. 7: Back To Hatred

A few weeks pass, and Michael has gone back to ignoring me. It's like one day, he cares, the next, he couldn't care less. It is causing me to become highly confused- and hurt. I thought the emotionless would have felt. And the hurt healed. But no, apparently everything is back to normal- not normal, far from it.

The weather has gotten considerably colder, and my calendar is out of date. It's for 4 years ago. But, I have forgotten what the day was anyways so what does it matter? I don't pay attention to that anyways.

So, I decide to find out why day it is. Michael, who is staring at the wall(why the heck does he do that? What is he...obsessed with walls? Gee wiz...), now has his his head towards me, seeming to notice me looking for a scarf to cover my mouth. My eyes don't matter. Nobody will pay attention if I just lurk around in the shadows. Plus, I...we...need food. So, I'll steal some from the store. I may have money, but I'm saving that for more dire needs. I finally find my grey scarf, put on my only leather jacket, and head out. But as soon as my hand makes contact on the silver handle on the door, a strong hand lands on my shoulder. Turning around, I see Michael, his eerie and pale white mask staring down at me with the pitch black eyeholes. "What?" I ask, looking him straight in the eyes...if only I could see them. He lets go of my shoulder, rushing to the small sticky notepad I kept on my desk.. He flipped to an open page, and picked up an unsharpened pencil, jotting down something. He hands it to me, and I take it.

'Where do you think you're going?'

Well then. "I'm going outside. What's it to you?"

'Where?'

"Outside!"

'Where outside?!'

"YOU KNOW WHAT?! WHY DO YOU CARE? Besides? What the heck will you do to me anyways?"  
Bad choice. In a swift movement, I am pinned up against the wall, both hands above my head, locked by an iron grip. The other gripping my waist tightly, holding me against the wall. His mask, literally centimeters from my face. Angry, I stick out my tongue, which wasn't smart, because I basically licked the mouth on his mask…idiot. Michael's expression was priceless though, I have to say. Seeing the slit eyes widen, his pupils become small, and his baby blues sparkling with embarrassment. But, I feel a blush creep up on my cheeks. He lets me go, and backs away quickly. He growls angrily.

I grumble, not caring what he does next. I open my door, slam it behind me, and lock it. Basically locking a serial killer in my room, and locking a serial killer out of my room. I head down the stairs, my basement door wide open. Breathing heavily, mumbled whispers of voiced ringing through my head each time I pass it, I kick it shut. Opening the door sent a cool rush of air onto my eyes causing them to water. Blinking a few times, wasting about 2 seconds for my escape, I panic, quickly running across the street out into the forest. Breathing heavily, and shivering, I carry an empty backpack, which is slung over my back. I need a better jacket, clothes, blankets, and food. I can do this.

-

I sulk back to my home with only a few dings and bruises. Got into a small skirmish while exiting, losing both my scarf and jacket. Nearly freezing and bloody, I scuff my boots across the ground. I sure hope Michael didn't try to break out of my room. Now I'm stuck with short sleeves and a heavy back pack and a few bags. I open my door, to a nearly destroyed family room. What. The. Hell. Happened. Here?! "MICHAEL?!" I nearly scream, and I see his pale white mask from just down the hallway, but it also has crimson blood spattered across its emotionless stare. "What happened in here?!" I yell, and Michael holds up his knife, which also contained a bloody paint. He had gashes in his arms, and there was blood all over the walls. Approaching his tall and bloody figure, I reach out to lightly touch his wounds. I decide to take a more kinder path. "Okay, Michael...what happened..." I ask, and he expresses that he was very angry. I don't understand what could've caused him to do this..or even have this reaction at all in general. That's when I ran upstairs. Afraid to find out what my room looked like. Gulping, I see the door is still intact, just the handle was off. My room was perfectly fine. Everything downstairs wasn't. Good thing I got some medical kits for Michael. I turn, to see him in the doorway. "Michael...!"

I yell in surprise, and he does his cue head tilt. I sigh, and continue into my room, observing everything. I walk over to my desk, and see that my journal was opened. Eyes widening, I quickly snatch up my journal, and quickly glance over the page he was reading. It was about my dad- a few days after what had happened to me- describing everything. Is that what triggered his anger? Why would it have? He…he didn't care about me. He always looked annoyed. Sighing once more, I shut it, and place it on my desk. Time to help Michael. Take my mind off of things. I tap him on the shoulder, as he seemed to be staring at the ground in…shame? I shrug it off, and signal for him to sit down on the bed. Running downstairs as fast as my legs could take me, I pick up my backpack and bags, and run right back upstairs…because I don't trust Michael. I place all bags on the floor, and observe his wounds as I take out the medical kit and medicine. As soon as he sees it, he goes completely berserk. By berserk, I mean, eyes widening, flinging himself off the bed, and then clinging to the door- wow. WOW. Michael…acting like this is…wow. Emotion-filled…I walk over to him, and stare him in the eyes with a gentle stare, and his- fearful?!- gaze, returning back at me. I sigh, and hold up the wrap and alcohol. He hesitantly holds out his arms, and I rub the medicine on his arms, and he doesn't even flinch. I wrap up his arms next, lightly, yet tight. I use my fake smile as an excuse for a real one. "See, that wasn't too bad, was it?" I ask with a calmer tone, which I'm not used to.  
This man- he- he is confused in my eyes. Just- very, very, confused. And…my heart goes out to him for a reason I cannot even comprehend. He stares at me, and goes over to the stickynotes on my desk next to my journal, and writes something down. He turns and holds it out to me, and I read it.  
'I need to vent. I'll be back.'  
I read it over and over. "I need to 'vent'"…well, then. He looks at me, and then leaves, knife in hand. I decide to unbag everything.

Few moments after Michael had left, I had already unbagged, and eaten something small. I turn to my desk, hoping my journal would be there, but- it isn't. Where is it? It was right there! On my desk! I even put it there! Shaking my head, thinking Michael took it, I sit down on my bed, and decide to get some sleep- after all, it is 12:46PM. I close my burning eyes, it sure has been a chaotic day. Maybe Michael will return sometime later. Surely he will be back in the morning.


End file.
